


No One is Alone

by orphan_account



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, it's both
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 21:39:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6130936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minkowski hasn't been sleeping well since Eiffel's sudden departure. Hera steps in to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One is Alone

Around the thirty-day mark, Minkowski stopped sleeping.

Well, that wasn’t wholly true. It couldn’t have been, or should would also have stopped breathing soon enough. She reached a point where sleeping was no longer a conscious choice, but something she did in fits and starts, and only in her bunk about twenty-five percent of the time. 

She was so tired, but everyone was so tired. She could see an exhaustion that echoed her own under Lovelace’s eyes - or maybe it was the other way around. The echoes of Lovelace herself stayed with Minkowski’s as much as the living woman’s words did.

_ You’re not the first. _

But she was the present. It was her crew now, her station, her responsibility. When she passed Lovelace in the corridor, she told her, “Get some rest, Captain.”

Lovelace gave her a sour look, and floated on. Minkowski held onto the railing for a moment longer, to watch her go. She fought the urge to take a deep breath. Even the minimal waste of oxygen wasn’t something they could afford anymore. 

She moved on. There were repairs to do. 

She drank a lot of seaweed mush. Eiffel had always been right about that, but she’d tried to do it by the book.  _ Pryce and Carter _ , Tip #5. She couldn’t admit to him that he’d been right; it would have been bad for everyone’s morale.

Now, he’d never know. She didn’t really regret that. He could come back right now, and she still wouldn’t tell him. But sometimes, in her sparse dreams, she had the choice again. 

She woke up, and repairs needed doing. She worked side-by-side with her crew, including Hilbert. They didn’t minimize communication, exactly. Sometimes, there was a lot that needed to be said about what part needed to go where. The chatter wasn’t friendly, but it wasn’t as cold as it should have been. Maintaining anger required levels of energy Minkowski no longer had. 

She only raised her voice when the others started to. “Now’s not the time! Let’s just… get this done.”

Most of the time, they listened. She was still the commander. 

At the start of one particular period of wakefulness, however, she rolled out of bed to find that her door wouldn’t open. She started at it blankly. She gritted her teeth, and defaulted to her exhausted instincts, trying to pry it open. Her fingertips couldn’t find purchase, and she slid and spun into the wall. 

As she drifted against it, blinking, she finally called, “Hera?”

“ _ Yes, Commander? _ ”

“My door won’t open. What’s up?”

“ _ A strategic c-calculation. Or maybe… more of a medical calculation? _ ”

“Hera? Does that mean it’s  _ intentional? _   Open the door, right now!”

“ _ Mmm. How many times am I allowed to reference  _ 2001: A Space Odyssey _ myself before someone orders me to stop? _ ”

“It depends. Would you listen to  _ that  _ order?”

“ _ Commander, I want you to know that it is causing me my synthetic equivalent of physical pain not to obey your order, and it involves me exploiting a loophole where I must act in the best interest of station officers a-at all times. _ ”

“Oh, so keeping me shut in my bunk is for my own good, is it?”

“ _ Yes. _ ”

“I see. Okay.” Minkowski grabbed the railing of her narrow bed, and tugged herself onto it. “At least explain how.”

“ _ Certainly. You’ve been averaging five hours of sleep per twenty four hour period for the past seventeen of these periods. The average is because you usually get less, until you collapse somewhere and end up with more despite yourself. _ ”

“You’ve been watching me sleep?” Minkowski demanded, knowing the answer but wanting to force Hera to admit it, as if that would let her assert some control over the situation.

“ _ Yes. As always. And it seems to me, for the good of this s-station, that this can’t continue. I’m frankly amazed that you haven’t made a critical error already. _ ” There was a pause. “ _ In fact, you might have done so, in judgment, but I’m not at l-liberty to discuss it. So: I’m amazed you haven’t made a critical error in your repair work. _ ” 

This time, Minkowski didn’t have anything to snap in reply. She was silent. At least, she took her time speaking. “You can’t… sleep, so maybe this is something you don’t understand. I’m sorry. But right now, I can’t sleep, either.”

“ _ Why n-not? _ ” Hera asked.

“Think of it this way: my brain won’t turn off. When I try to make it turn off… When I try to relax enough to sleep, I see…” She closed her eyes, despite herself, even knowing it would just make the problem more immediate. “I remember Eiffel. And my husband. And even just… what this was supposed to be. What it’s not.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why - I shouldn’t have told you that. It’s need to know, and you didn’t.”

This time, it was Hera who kept silent, as her massive brain considered that. Emotions were complicated, because it was about the process more than the information. In the end, she said,  _ “You’re exhausted, Commander. Again, that makes you prone to errors in judgment. You said what you wanted to say without thinking about it. Maybe someone needed to hear it, anyway. And… I know this is very difficult right now, but… You can trust me. _ ”

“Thank you, Hera,” Minkowski sighed, so that Hera could barely catch the audio.

“ _ No problem, Commander. Thank you for the information. It’s useful. _ ” Another pause, shorter, this time.  _ “Now that I know the issue, is there a-anything I can do to help you sleep?” _

Minkowski hesitated, then answered, “Music helps, sometimes. I haven’t really been in the mood lately, though…”

“ _ Anything in particular? _ ”

“I like to sleep to  _ Into the Woods _ … just kept on a low volume? I don’t know if you can-”

“ _ Once upon a time! ...I wish… _ ” 

“Oh. Yeah, that’s it. Well, then… But, I mean, what are the others up to? I don’t want to wake up to find someone’s had their throat torn out.”

_ “Don’t worry, Commander. I think we can survive for seven hours. I’ll wake you if there’s a critical system issue - or the alarms will whether I like it or not - but otherwise, Hilbert and Lovelace are keeping their distance from each other. _ ”

“Well… Okay.” Minkowski slipped into her sleeping bag and adjusted the straps, just as a precaution, before zipping herself in. “Thanks, Hera.”

“ _ Again, it’s no problem, Commander. Good night. _ ”  
  
Night time may have been arbitrary in space, but it was the best rest Minkowski had managed in weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, I guess this is hurt comfort?
> 
> I just thought I hadn't written anything for Wolf 359 in too long, and I wanted to do something before the new episode came out. I have a list of things to write for this fandom, and one of them was just "Minkowski sleepless." It was originally just supposed to be sad, and with a greater focus on Lovelace interaction and parallels, but I love Minkowski and Hera and I decided that there's enough pure sad in canon right now.
> 
> The title is a really bad reference, I'm sorry. But consider that what Minkowski was reminded of.


End file.
